Hardiansyah Kasim

The Psychological Approach: Freud

I. AIMS AND PRINCIPLES
Having discussed two of the basic approaches to literary understanding, the
traditional and the formalistic, we now examine a third interpretive perspective, the
psychological. Of all the critical approaches to literature, this has been one of the most
controversial, the most abused, andfor many readers the least appreciated. Yet, for
all the difficulties involved in its proper application to interpretive analysis, the
psychological approach can be fascinating and rewarding. Our purpose in this chapter is
threefold: (1) to account briefly for the misunderstanding of psychological criticism; (2)
to outline the psychological theory most commonly used as an interpretive tool by
modern critics; and (3) to show by examples how readers may apply this mode of
interpretation to enhance their understanding and appreciation of literature.
The idea of enhancement must be understood as a preface to our discussion. It is
axiomatic that no single approach can exhaust the manifold interpretive possibilities of a
worthwhile literary work; each approach has its own peculiar limitations. As we have
already discovered, the limitations of the traditional approach lie in its tendency to
overlook the structural intricacies of the work. The formalistic approach, on the other
hand, often neglects historical and sociological contexts that may provide important
insights into the meaning of the work.
In turn, the crucial limitation of the psychological approach is its aesthetic
inadequacy: psychological interpretation can afford many profound clues toward
solving a work's thematic and symbolic mysteries, but it can seldom account for the
beautiful symmetry of a well-wrought poem or of a fictional masterpiece. Though the
psychological approach is an excellent tool for reading beneath the lines, the
interpretive craftsman must often use other tools, such as the traditional and the
formalistic approaches, for a proper rendering of the lines themselves.
A. Abuses and Misunderstandings
of the Psychological Approach
In the general sense of the word, there is nothing new about the psychological approach.
As early as the fourth century B.C., Aristotle used it in setting forth his classic definition
of tragedy as combining the emotions of pity and terror to produce catharsis. The

"compleat gentleman" of the English Renaissance, Sir Philip Sidney, with his statements
about the moral effects of poetry, was psychologizing literature, as were such romantic
poets as Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Shelley with their theories of the imagination. In
this sense, then, virtually every literary critic has been concerned at some time with the
psychology of writing or responding to literature.
During the twentieth century, however, psychological criticism has come to be
associated with a particular school of thought: the psychoanalytic theories of Sigmund
Freud (1856-1939) and his followers. (The currently most significant of these followers,
Jacques Lacan, will be discussed in chapter 6.) From this association have derived most
of the abuses and misunderstandings of the modern psychological approach to literature.
Abuses of the approach have resulted from an excess of enthusiasm, which has been
manifested in several ways. First, the practitioners of the Freudian approach often push
their critical theses too hard, forcing literature into a Procrustean bed of psychoanalytic
theory at the expense of other relevant considerations (for example, the work's total
thematic and aesthetic context). Second, the literary criticism of the psychoanalytic
extremists has at times degenerated into a special occultism with its own mystique and
jargon exclusively for the in-group. Third, many critics of the psychological school have
been either literary scholars who have understood the principles of psychology
imperfectly or professional psychologists who have had little feeling for literature as art:
the former have abused Freudian insights through oversimplification and distortion; the
latter have bruised our literary sensibilities.
These abuses have given rise to a widespread mistrust of the psychological
approach as a tool for critical analysis. Conservative scholars and teachers of literature,
often shocked by such terms as anal eroticism, phallic symbol, and Oedipal complex,
and confused by the clinical diagnoses of literary problems (for example, the
interpretation of Hamlet's character as a "severe case of hysteria on a cyclothymic
basis"that is, a manic-depressive psychosis), have rejected all psychological criticism,
other than the commonsense type, as pretentious nonsense. By explaining a few of the
principles of Freudian psychology that have been applied to literary interpretation and
by providing some cautionary remarks, we hope to introduce the reader to a balanced
critical perspective that will enable him or her to appreciate the instructive possibilities
of the psychological approach while avoiding the pitfalls of either extremist attitude.

B. Freud's Theories
The foundation of Freud's contribution to modern psychology is his emphasis on
the unconscious aspects of the human psyche. A brilliant creative genius, Freud
provided convincing evidence, through his many carefully recorded case studies, that
most of our actions are motivated by psychological forces over which we have very
limited control. He demonstrated that, like the iceberg, the human mind is structured so
that its great weight and density lie beneath the surface (below the level of
consciousness). In "The Anatomy of the Mental Personality," Freud discriminates
between the levels of conscious and unconscious mental activity:
The oldest and best meaning of the word "unconscious" is the descriptive one;
we call "unconscious" any mental process the existence of which we are obligated to
assumebecause, for instance, we infer it in some way from its effectsbut of which
we are not directly aware. ... If we want to be more accurate, we should modify the
statement by saying that we call a process "unconscious" when we have to assume that
it was active at a certain time, although at that time we knew nothing about it. (99-100)
Freud further emphasizes the importance of the unconscious by pointing out that
even the "most conscious processes are conscious for only a short period; quite soon
they become latent, though they can easily become conscious again" (100). In view of
this, Freud defines two kinds of unconscious:
one which is transformed into conscious material easily and under conditions
which frequently arise, and another in the case of which such a transformation is
difficult, can only come about with a considerable expenditure of energy, or may never
occur at all. . . . We call the unconscious which is only latent, and so can easily become
conscious, the "preconscious," and keep the name "unconscious" for the other. (101)
That most of the individual's mental processes are unconscious is thus Freud's
first major premise. The second (which has been rejected by a great many professional
psychologists, including some of Freud's own disciplesfor example, Carl Gustav Jung
and Alfred Adler) is that ll human behavior is motivated ultimately by what we would
call sexuality. Freud designates the prime psychic force as libido, or sexual energy. His
third major premise is that because of the powerful social taboos attached to certain

sexual impulses, many of our desires and memories are repressed (that is, actively
excluded from conscious awareness).
Starting from these three premises, we may examine several corollaries of
Freudian theory. Principal among these is Freud's assignment of the mental processes to
three psychic zones: the id, the ego, and the superego. An explanation of these zones
may be illustrated with Freud's own diagram:

perceptual-conscious

The diagram reveals immediately the vast portion of the mental apparatus that is
not conscious. Furthermore, it helps to clarify the relationship between ego, id, and
superego, as well as their collective relationship to the conscious and the unconscious.
We should note that the id is entirely unconscious and that only a small portion of the
ego and the superego is conscious. With this diagram as a guide, we may define the
nature and functions of the three psychic zones.
1. The id is the reservoir of libido, the primary source of all psychic energy. It
functions to fulfill the primordial life principle, which Freud considers to be the
pleasure principle. Without consciousness or semblance of rational order, the id is
characterized by a tremendous and amorphous vitality. Speaking metaphorically, Freud
explains this "obscure inaccessible part of our personality" as "a chaos, a cauldron of
seething excitement [with] no organization and no unified will, only an impulsion to
obtain satisfaction for the instinctual needs, in accordance with the pleasure principle"
(103-^1). He further stresses that the "laws of logicabove all, the law of contradiction
do not hold for processes of the id. Contradictory impulses exist side by side without
neutralizing each other or drawing apart. . . . Naturally, the id knows no values, no good
and evil, no morality" (104-5).
The id is, in short, the source of all our aggressions and desires. It is lawless,
asocial, and amoral. Its function is to gratify our instincts for pleasure without regard for
social conventions, legal ethics, or moral restraint. Unchecked, it would lead us to any
lengthsto destruction and even self-destruction to satisfy its impulses for pleasure.

Safety for the self and for others does not lie within the province of the id; its concern is
purely for instinctual gratification, heedless of consequence. For centuries before Freud,
this force was recognized in human nature but often attributed to supernatural and
external rather than natural and internal forces: the id as defined by Freud is identical in
many respects to the Devil as defined by theologians. Thus there is a certain
psychological validity in the old saying that a rambunctious child (whose id has not yet
been brought under control by ego and superego) is "full of the devil." We may also see
in young children (and neurotic adults) certain uncontrolled impulses toward pleasure
that often lead to excessive self-indulgence and even to self-injury
2. In view of the id's dangerous potentialities, it is necessary that other psychic
agencies protect the individual and society. The first of these regulating agencies, that
which protects the individual, is the ego. This is the rational governing agent of the
psyche. Though the ego lacks the strong vitality of the id, it regulates the instinctual
drives of the id so that they may be released in nondestructive behavioral patterns. And
though a large portion of the ego is unconscious, the ego nevertheless comprises what
we ordinarily think of as the conscious mind. As Freud points out, "In popular language,
we may say that the ego stands for reason and circumspection, while the id stands for
the untamed passions." Whereas the id is governed solely by the pleasure principle, the
ego is governed by the reality principle. Consequently, the ego serves as intermediary
between the world within and the world without.
3. The other regulating agent, that which primarily functions to protect society,
is the superego. Largely unconscious, the superego is the moral censoring agency, the
repository of conscience and pride. It is, as Freud says in "The Anatomy of the Mental
Personality" the "representative of all moral restrictions, the advocate of the impulse
toward perfection, in short it is as much as we have been able to apprehend psychologically of what people call the 'higher' things in human life" (95). Acting either
directly or through the ego, the superego serves to repress or inhibit the drives of the id,
to block off and thrust back into the unconscious those impulses toward pleasure that
society regards as unacceptable, such as overt aggression, sexual passions, and the
Oedipal instinct. Freud attributes the development of the superego to the parental
influence that manifests itself in terms of punishment for what society considers to be
bad behavior and reward for what society considers good behavior. An overactive

superego creates an unconscious sense of guilt (hence the familiar term guilt complex
and the popular misconception that Freud advocated the relaxing of all moral inhibitions
and social restraints). Whereas the id is dominated by the pleasure principle and the ego
by the reality principle, the superego is dominated by the morality principle. We might
say that the id would make us devils, that the superego would have us behave as angels
(or, worse, as creatures of absolute social conformity), and that it remains for the ego to
keep us healthy human beings by maintaining a balance between these two opposing
forces. It was this balance that Freud advocatednot a complete removal of inhibiting
factors.
One of the most instructive applications of this Freudian tri-partition to literary
criticism is the well-known essay "In Nomine Diaboli" by Henry A. Murray (435-52), a
knowledgeable psychoanalyst and a sensitive literary critic as well. In analyzing
Herman Melville's masterpiece Moby-Dick with the tools provided by Freud, Murray
explains the White Whale as a symbolic embodiment of the strict conscience of New
England Puritanism (that is, as a projection of Melville's own superego). Captain Ahab,
the monomaniac who leads the crew of the Pequod to destruction through his insane
compulsion to pursue and strike back at the creature who has injured him, is interpreted
as the symbol of a rapacious and uncontrollable id. Starbuck, the sane Christian and first
mate who struggles to mediate between the forces embodied in Moby-Dick and Ahab,
symbolizes a balanced and sensible rationalism (that is, the ego).
Though many scholars are reluctant to accept Freud's tripartition of the human
psyche, they have not reacted against this aspect of psychoanalytic criticism so strongly
as against the application of his sexual theories to the symbolic interpretation of
literature. Let us briefly examine the highlights of such theories. Perhaps the most
controversial (and, to many persons, the most offensive) facet of psychoanalytic
criticism is its tendency to interpret imagery in terms of sexuality. Following Freud's
example in his interpretation of dreams, the psychoanalytic critic tends to see all
concave images (ponds, flowers, cups or vases, caves, and hollows) as female or yonic
symbols, and all images whose length exceeds their diameter (towers, mountain peaks,
snakes, knives, lances, and swords) as male or phallic symbols. Perhaps even more
objectionable to some is the interpretation of such activities as dancing, riding, and flying as symbols of sexual pleasure: for example, in The Life and Works of Edgar Allan

Poe: A Psycho-Analytic Interpretation, Marie Bonaparte interprets the figure of Psyche

in "Ulalume" as an ambivalent mother figure, both the longed-for mother and the
mother as superego who shields her son from his incestuous instincts, concluding with
the following startling observation: "Psyche's drooping, trailing wings in this poem
symbolise in concrete form Poe's physical impotence. We know that flying, to all races,
unconsciously symbolises the sex act, and that antiquity often represented the penis
erect and winged." For the skeptical reader Bonaparte provides this explanation:
Infinite are the symbols man has the capacity to create, as indeed, the dreams
and religions of the savage and civilized well show. Every natural object may be utilised
to this end yet, despite their multiple shapes, the objects and relations to which they
attach are relatively few: these include the beings we loved first, such as mother, father,
brothers or sisters and their bodies, but mainly our own bodies and genitals, and theirs.
Almost all symbolism is sexual, in its widest sense, taking the word as the deeplyburied primal urge behind all expressions of love, from the cradle to the grave. (294)
Although such observations as these may have a sound psychoanalytic basis,
their relevance to sound critical analysis has been questioned by many scholars. We may
sympathize with their incredulousness when we encounter the Freudian essay that
interprets even a seemingly innocent fairy tale like "Little Red Riding Hood" as an
allegory of the age-old conflict between male and female in which the plucky young
virgin, whose red cap is a menstrual symbol, outwits the ruthless, sex-hungry "wolf"
(Fromm 235-41).
Perhaps even more controversial than Freudian dream symbolism are Freud's
theories concerning child psychology. Contrary to traditional beliefs, Freud found
infancy and childhood a period of intense sexual experience, sexual in a sense much
broader than is commonly attached to the term. During the first five years of life, the
child passes through a series of phases in erotic development, each phase being
characterized by emphasis on a particular erogenous zone (that is, a portion of the body
in which sexual pleasure becomes localized). Freud indicated three such zones: the oral,
the anal, and the genital. (Note that the uninitiated layman, unfamiliar with the breadth
of Freud's term, generally restricts the meaning of "sexuality" to "genital sexuality")
These zones are associated not only with pleasure in stimulation but also with the
gratification of our vital needs: eating, elimination, and reproduction. If for some reason

the individual is frustrated in gratifying these needs during childhood, the adult
personality may be warped accordingly (that is, development may be arrested or
fixated). For example, adults who are compulsively fastidious may suffer, according to
the psychoanalyst, from an anal fixation traceable to overly strict toilet training during
early childhood. Likewise, compulsive cigarette smoking may be interpreted as a
symptom of oral fixation traceable to premature weaning. Even among "normal" adults,
sublimated responses occur when the individual is vicariously stimulated by images
associated with one of the major erogenous zones. In his Fiction and the Unconscious,
Simon O. Lesser suggests that the anal-erotic quality in Robinson Crusoe (manifested in
the hero's scrupulous record keeping and orderliness) accounts at least partially for the
unconscious appeal of Defoe's masterpiece (306).
According to Freud, the child reaches the stage of genital primacy around age
five, at which time the Oedipus complex manifests itself. In simple terms, the Oedipus
complex derives from the boy's unconscious rivalry with his father for the love of his
mother. Freud borrowed the term from the classic Sophoclean tragedy in which the hero
unwittingly murders his father and marries his mother. In The Ego and the Id, Freud describes the complex as follows:
. . . the boy deals with his father by identifying himself with him. For a time these two
relationships [the child's devotion to his mother and identification with his father]
proceed side by side, until the boy's sexual wishes in regard to his mother become more
intense and his father is perceived as an obstacle to them; from this the Oedipus
complex originates. His identification with his father then takes on a hostile colouring
and changes into a wish to get rid of his father in order to take his place with his mother.
Henceforward his relation to his father is ambivalent; it seems as if the ambivalence
inherent in the identification from the beginning had become manifest. An ambivalent
attitude to his father and an object-relation of a solely affectionate kind to his mother
make up the content of the simple positive Oedipus complex in a boy. (21-22)
Further ramifications of the Oedipus complex are a fear of castration and an
identification of the father with strict authority in all forms; subsequent hostility to
authority is therefore associated with the Oedipal ambivalence to which Freud refers.
(The Oedipus complex figures strongly in Jacques Lacan's psychoanalytic theory [see

chapter 6].) A story like Nathaniel Hawthorne's "My Kinsman, Major Molineux," for
instance, has been interpreted by Lesser as essentially a symbolic rebellion against the
father figure. And with this insight we may find meaning in the young hero's disturbing
outburst of laughter as he watches the cruel tarring and feathering of his once-respected
relative: the youth is expressing his unconscious joy in being released from parental
authority. Now he is free, as the friendly stranger suggests, to make his own way in the
adult world without the help (and restraint) of his kinsman.

 II. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL APPROACH

IN PRACTICE
A. Hamlet: The Oedipus Complex
Although Freud himself made some applications of his theories to art and
literature, it remained for an English disciple, the psychoanalyst Ernest Jones, to provide
the first full-scale
psychoanalytic treatment of a major literary work. Jones's Hamlet and Oedipus,
originally published as an essay in The American Journal of Psychology in 1910, was
later revised and enlarged.
Jones bases his argument on the thesis that Hamlet's much-debated delay in
killing his uncle, Claudius, is to be explained in terms of internal rather than external
circumstances and that the "play is mainly concerned with a hero's unavailing fight
against what can only be called a disordered mind." In his carefully documented essay
Jones builds a highly persuasive case history of Hamlet as a psychoneurotic who suffers
from manic-depressive hysteria combined with an abulia (an inability to exercise
willpower and come to decisions)all of which may be traced to the hero's severely
repressed Oedipal feelings. Jones points out that no really satisfying argument has ever
been substantiated for the idea that Hamlet avenges his father's murder as quickly as
practicable. Shakespeare makes Claudius's guilt as well as Hamlet's duty perfectly clear
from the outsetif we are to trust the words of the ghost and the gloomy insights of the
hero himself. The fact is, however, that Hamlet does not fulfill this duty until absolutely
forced to do so by physical circumstancesand even then only after Gertrude, his
mother, is dead. Jones also elucidates the strong misogyny that Hamlet displays
throughout the play, especially as it is directed against Ophelia, and his almost physical
revulsion to sex. All of this adds up to a classic example of the neurotically repressed
Oedipus complex.
The ambivalence that typifies the child's attitude toward his father is dramatized in the
characters of the ghost (the good, lovable father with whom the boy identifies) and
Claudius (the hated father as tyrant and rival), both of whom are dramatic projections of
the hero's own conscious-unconscious ambivalence toward the father figure. The ghost
represents the conscious ideal of fatherhood, the image that is socially acceptable:
See, what a grace was seated on this brow:

Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself,

An eye like Mars, to threaten and command,
A station like the herald Mercury
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill
A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man: This was your husband. (Ill.iv)
His view of Claudius, on the other hand, represents Hamlet's repressed hostility toward
his father as a rival for his mother's affection. This new king-father is the symbolic
perpetrator of the very deeds toward which the son is impelled by his own unconscious
motives: murder of his father and incest with his mother. Hamlet cannot bring himself to
kill Claudius because to do so he must, in a psychological sense, kill himself. His delay
and frustration in trying to fulfill the ghost's demand for vengeance may therefore be
explained by the fact that, as Jones puts it, the "thought of incest and parricide combined
is too intolerable to be borne. One part of him tries to carry out the task, the other
flinches inexorably from the thought of it" (78-79).
Norman N. Holland neatly summed up the reasons both for Hamlet's delay and also for
our three-hundred-year delay in comprehending Hamlet's true motives:
Now what do critics mean when they say that Hamlet cannot act because of his Oedipus
complex? The argument is very simple, very elegant. One, people over the centuries
have been unable to say why Hamlet delays in killing the man who murdered his father
and married his mother. Two, psychoanalytic experience shows that every child wants to
do just exactly that. Three, Hamlet delays because he cannot punish Claudius for doing
what he himself wished to do as a child and, unconsciously, still wishes to do: he would
be punishing himself. Four, the fact that this wish is unconscious explains why people
could not explain Hamlet's delay. (158)
A corollary to the Oedipal problem in Hamlet is the pronounced misogyny in
Hamlet's character. Because of his mother's abnormally sensual affection for her son, an
affection that would have deeply marked Hamlet as a child with an Oedipal neurosis, he
has in the course of his psychic development repressed his incestuous impulses so
severely that this repression colors his attitude toward all women: "The total reaction

culminates in the bitter misogyny of his outburst against Ophelia, who is devastated at
having to bear a reaction so wholly out of proportion to her own offense and has no idea
that in reviling her Hamlet is really expressing his bitter resentment against his mother"
(Jones 96). The famous "Get thee to a nunnery" speech has even more sinister overtones
than are generally recognized, explains Jones, when we understand the pathological
degree of Hamlet's conditions and read "nunnery" as Elizabethan slang for brothel.
The underlying theme relates ultimately to the splitting of the mother image
which the infantile unconscious effects into two opposite pictures: one of a virginal
Madonna, an inaccessible saint towards whom all sensual approaches are unthinkable,
and the other of a sensual creature accessible to everyone. . . . When sexual repression is
highly pronounced, as with Hamlet, then both types of women are felt to be hostile: the
pure one out of resentment at her repulses, the sensual one out of the temptation she
offers to plunge into guiltiness. Misogyny, as in the play, is the inevitable result. (97-98)
Although it has been attacked by the anti-Freudians and occasionally disparaged as
"obsolete" by the neo-Freudians, Jones's critical tour de force has nevertheless attained
the status of a modern classic. "Both as an important seminal work which led to a
considerable re-examination of Hamlet, and as an example of a thorough and intelligent
application of psychoanalysis to drama," writes Claudia C. Morrison, "Jones's essay
stands as the single most important Freudian study of literature to appear in
America . . ." (175).